


the (after)life of the party

by SlimeQueen



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Blood Drinking, Blow Jobs, Fingerfucking, M/M, Roommates, Serial Killer!Hyuck, Serial Killers, Vampires, vamp!Mark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:46:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25699765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlimeQueen/pseuds/SlimeQueen
Summary: Donghyuck comes home around dawn, his hands stained with blood, a still unquenched fire burning in his eyes. Mark’s fangs ache.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 40
Kudos: 521





	the (after)life of the party

**Author's Note:**

> okay dont ask me why i felt the need to put vampires AND serial killers in the same fic and then make them roommates

At half past five in the morning, Mark wakes up to the smell of fresh blood a second before the telltale creak of their front door alerts him that Donghyuck has returned.

Mark used to think it was funny when they first started living together, that he, being the undead roommate of the two, sleeps normal hours, and Donghyuck is the one who stays out all night and sleeps all day.

Then, exactly three days later, when he smells blood fresh on Donghyuck as he creeps home in the late hours, he doesn’t think it’s funny anymore.

Mark had given up his own secret in the confrontation that had followed, baring his fangs and slamming Donghyuck against a wall by the throat, and Donghyuck’s eyes had widened dramatically, but he’d grinned the whole time.

That had been years ago, when they’d been cautious for weeks afterwards, each worried that the other would snitch or give something away. Somehow, the power of a mutual secret had bonded them together.

Donghyuck will never tell anyone that Mark needs to hunt and drink blood at least once a week, and Mark will never tell anyone that Donghyuck sometimes goes out into the seedier parts of town and paints it just a bit redder.

There’s no caution between them now, and Mark listens for Donghyuck’s footsteps from the entrance of their home all the way past the living room, rummaging around the kitchen, to the end of the hall until he’s right in front of Mark’s door. With him, he brings the sweet scent of blood, and Mark slicks his tongue over his teeth, feels them practically ache as Donghyuck throws open the door.

Mark’s eyes see in the dark much better than Donghyuck’s, and it’s easy to spot the crimson smear at his jaw, the fine splatter of red like freckles against his warm skin. Donghyuck smiles in the way that always makes Mark frustrated, like he knows something and isn’t telling Mark on purpose just to annoy him.

Mark rolls onto his back as Donghyuck crosses the room to him, climbing atop the bed and then onto Mark’s hips, pinning him to the mattress by sitting on his thighs. Donghyuck stoops over until their foreheads are nearly touching, a few errant strands of his hair brushing forward against Mark’s temple.

“Guess who,” he says, flashing a pearly smile, and presses his fingertips to Mark’s lips. Mark’s tongue flicks out automatically, drawn to the rich blood coating Donghyuck’s fingers, lapping it up.

Mark shudders at the taste—tomorrow’s his next feeding day, according to the meticulous schedule in his planner, and he’d been ravenous all day in anticipation—and his gums echo that sentiment. His fangs ache to lengthen to their full size, long and powerful and sharp.

The blood is sweet, tangy on his palate, coating it in a way that no other liquid can. Mark’s been around for a long time, has drank from a lot of different people. Donghyuck had turned it into a game some time ago.

“Old man,” Mark replies to his question after a moment of consideration. The blood dissolves on his tongue, exacerbated by the excess saliva that floods there in response to it. “Definitely older than 60.”

Donghyuck’s grin widens, until it’s dangerously breathtaking. “Rapist,” he informs, “Asked me some very disgusting questions about my jeans.”

“Thanks for making me eat that,” Mark deadpans, and twists until Donghyuck tumbles down onto the bed next to him.

Donghyuck pouts at him, all soft brown eyes, and says, “Why aren’t your teeth coming out?”

Mark’s fangs want to come out. Oh god, do they want to slide forth, to lick the rest of the blood off Donghyuck’s face and make their way to Donghyuck’s throat, to the steady thump of his pulse. But Donghyuck’s cocky on a good day, and there’s no way Mark will give him that satisfaction without a fight.

When Mark shrugs one shoulder, he rises to the challenge with determination in his gaze, reaching forward to curl a warm palm over Mark’s jaw. He turns Mark’s face towards him, leaning forward to press their mouths together in a sloppy kiss. His tongue sweeps into Mark’s mouth, over Mark’s teeth, and Mark makes a strangled noise at the wet warmth of his mouth, and then it’s out of his control. His canines lengthen until they press just barely into the swell of his bottom lip, his gums aching, throat dry. Mark tries not to drown under the wave of hot arousal and thirst that washes over him.

Donghyuck gives him a triumphant look. “You can have some, you know,” he says, gesturing vaguely to his neck. “To get the taste of old man out of your mouth.”

“Yeah?” Mark straightens up onto his elbow. He can hear the beating of Donghyuck’s heart insistently, so much that it takes an effort to drown it out sometimes, when Mark gets really hungry. He’s far more attuned to Donghyuck than anyone else, and that makes him taste that much sweeter, the rich familiarity of his blood adding a depth Mark had never known feeding could have.

“How gracious of you,” he adds, because he doesn’t want to seem overeager.

And then Donghyuck gets a glint in his eyes that Mark knows to associate with trouble, and he says sweetly, “Of course—if you get me off first.”

Of course, there’s a catch. There always is, despite the fact that Mark would willingly suck Donghyuck off anyways, if he just asked like a normal human being. Hell, Mark isn’t even a human being and he still asks the normal way.

Just to annoy Donghyuck, Mark considers saying no for a fraction of a second, but the heady aroma of Donghyuck’s blood makes saliva flood to his mouth, and he hasn’t eaten yet this week. He slicks his tongue over one long fang as he considers, feeling the long razor-sharp length of it. He has to be careful with his teeth; he’d accidentally sliced his tongue open on one before, spitting out a mouthful of his own blood before he’d realized what had happened. It had scared the shit out of Donghyuck, much to Mark’s amusement.

“Take your fucking pants off,” Mark grouses, and slaps Donghyuck’s ass when he gets up just to be a dick. Donghyuck tells him as much, and Mark just shrugs.

Mark’s on his knees in the time Donghyuck takes to strip off his jeans, leaving them in the laundry basket by the bathroom door. He grabs Mark’s face, thumb pressing to Mark’s lower lip until he has no choice but to part his mouth, and Donghyuck puts the lightest bit of pressure against Mark’s fang, the very tip of it digging into the pad of his thumb. “Open up, baby,” he says with a cool grin, “And watch the teeth, if you could.”

Donghyuck drags the head of his cock along his mouth, and Mark tongues over the slit, tastes salty precome on his palate, and resists the urge to moan as Donghyuck’s cock pushes deeper into his mouth. He tries desperately to will his fangs up, focusing on how horny he is rather than how thirsty, and they listen for once, retracting obediently until they resemble normal human teeth.

“Your face is so red,” Donghyuck teases, and drags his cock back out of Mark’s mouth, and Mark feels sticky threads of saliva and precome stretch between them until Donghyuck smears it over Mark’s cheek, leaving a long cooling shiny trail over his cheekbone.

Donghyuck’s dick is so warm against his cheek, nearly throbbing with blood, and it makes Mark’s mouth water instinctively. He wants it so badly.

It takes every bit of brainpower he has to keep from biting when Donghyuck’s dick slips past his lips again, deep until he can’t think of anything except for the way his throat contracts reflectively around Donghyuck’s cock. The way his gums throb is echoed by his dick, painfully hard in his shorts, and Mark moans when Donghyuck drags a hand through his hair, fisting it tight. He tries his best to relax, to let his throat open up as Donghyuck pulls him forward by the hair, his cock sliding deep into the warmth of Mark’s mouth.

Mark’s sloppier than he’d like to be, his lips slick with spit that smears down his chin, throat contracting automatically when Donghyuck cants his hips forward just to be a dick. Mark gags, pulling off, and Donghyuck loosens his grip just enough for Mark to gasp for breath, tears springing to his eyes.

There’s too much saliva in his mouth, from the scent of blood and from his gag reflex, so he spits into his hand, uses it to jerk Donghyuck off as he mouths at the head of his dick, the slightly bitter taste of Donghyuck’s precome on his tongue.

Donghyuck moans soft and sweet when Mark’s tongue sweeps over the slit at the top of his dick, and Mark glances up through is eyelashes to catch a glimpse of his face. Donghyuck’s eyes are glazed over, dewy and beautiful, his full lips parted as he gasps Mark’s name. Mark’s eyes catch on his neck, the tendons standing stark against tan skin when he lets his head fall backwards, baring his throat.

It’s a very dangerous sight, Mark decides. He can practically hear the dull, wet thud of Donghyuck’s pulse, so fucking distracting to his heightened senses. He looks away, trying to keep his fangs short and retracted.

Donghyuck’s hips are so soft under his hands when he wraps his hands around them, fingers trailing over the swell of his ass. He presses spit-slick fingers to Donghyuck’s ass, rubbing over his tight entrance, and Donghyuck hisses “ _fuck,_ ” in surprise, his hips thrusting forward on instinct, pushing his cock deeper into Mark’s mouth.

Donghyuck likes when it burns, likes feeling Mark’s fingers splitting him open raw, feeling Mark’s fangs sink into the tender skin at the nape of his neck at the same time. Mark presses his middle finger past the ring of muscles, feels the warmth of Donghyuck’s body around it.

He uses his tongue to trace the throbbing vein along the underside of Donghyuck’s dick as he loosens Donghyuck enough to squeeze a second finger into him, and when he crooks his fingers, presses them in deep, Donghyuck gasps for breath, his grip on Mark’s hair tightening until his scalp tingles.

Mark pushes his fingers against Donghyuck’s prostate, laves over the head of his dick again, and Donghyuck makes a choked noise of warning, arching back against Mark’s hand. Mark has just enough time to open his mouth and catch the warm rush of Donghyuck’s come on his tongue, sticky with the slightest hint of bitterness.

Even that much isn’t enough though, and the next spurt of come misses his lip by a margin and drips slow and thick down the hollow of Mark’s cheek. Donghyuck whimpers when Mark’s fingers slide out of him, muttering under his breath, “asshole,” when the motion is too abrupt.

“You’re the one who came on my face,” Mark fires back, rubbing his jaw lightly. Donghyuck’s still breathing unsteadily, his legs trembling, so Mark gives him a little shove for his trouble, sends him sprawling backwards onto the bed. Donghyuck goes down with a small yelp and starts to snap some choice words at him until Mark pins him down by the wrists, feeling the pulse in them against his fingers, bracketing his narrow hips with his knees.

Donghyuck’s face is flushed with blood, his pulse rapid from his orgasm, and Mark feels his fangs lengthen again, eager to be buried in Donghyuck’s neck. For a moment, Donghyuck looks up at him, eyes widening as he watches Mark’s fangs grow in.

“You like seeing it?” Mark asks, bares his teeth and growls, a noise that’s more beast than human, and it makes Donghyuck blink in surprise. “Does it scare you?”

“Maybe if you were actually a dangerous predator,” he answers steadily, “but I’ve seen you cry over the fact that we ran out of ice cream, so I think I’m good.”

Mark snarls, buries his hand in Donghyuck’s hair and yanks his head to the side to expose his throat. Donghyuck grins, that arrogant smile that makes Mark’s insides feel like he’s swallowed vinegar and baking soda, and Mark can’t help himself anymore.

He ducks down, tongue sweeping over the smear of blood on his jaw, the same taste as earlier invading his senses. It’s blood that is weak, the old man’s life energy slow and sluggish, but it’s enough to make saliva flood to his mouth.

His teeth sink through Donghyuck’s neck like it’s made of butter, the soft give of his flesh, tendons and sinew, blood erupting from the wounds when Mark pulls back to drink. It’s so sweet and salty on his tongue, bursting with an essence that is Donghyuck’s alone. He’d know this taste in an instant. He would fall to his knees and worship for a drop of this.

He swallows mouthful after mouthful, and Donghyuck’s arms resist the iron grip of his hands until he pulls them away. Instantly, Donghyuck uses his newly freed hand to cradle the nape of Mark’s neck, the other one searching for Mark’s hand to link their fingers loosely together.

The richness of Donghyuck’s lifeblood is everything he’s ever wanted, and the fact that it’s given willingly makes it that much sweeter on his palate, coating his mouth and throat, quelling the thirst that’s been burning low for days now. Mark drinks until he’s full like a tick about to burst, until he can feel the power Donghyuck’s blood gives him surging over him, a protective layer of energy.

Then, carefully, he pulls back and examines the wound he’s made. Two twin pinpricks, already healing from his saliva. He licks over it again for good measure, urging the flow to slow down, and Donghyuck muffles a giggle at the feeling.

“Messy eater,” he accuses, all loose and giggly now that he’s given so much blood. He reaches up and swipes his thumb across Mark’s lower lip, and it comes away stained red. Mark’s eyes work so much better in the dark when he’s fed, and he sees the slick shine of Donghyuck’s tongue perfectly when it slips out to lick his own blood off his thumb.

Mark licks at his lips, his fangs, cleaning them up efficiently before he moves back off Donghyuck and sits up. “If you ever make me eat an old rapist again, I’ll choke you out,” he informs Donghyuck with a glimmering smile.

“You didn’t like the takeout?” Donghyuck simpers, wriggling backwards up the bed until his head hits Mark’s pillow. “I worked so hard to get it for you.”

Mark is about to give a snappy reply when his alarm goes off, phone ringing shrilly from the bedside table. He glares instead, and Donghyuck shrugs, just makes himself more comfortable in Mark’s bed. “Don’t wake me up,” he says with a shit eating grin.

Mark watches Donghyuck pulls the covers, still warm from when Mark was sleeping, closer to his body, and keeps watching until Donghyuck’s breathing has gone steady with sleep.

Then he goes to make himself a cup of tea, slinking down the hall. In the kitchen, he sets the kettle on and opens their fridge, wondering if he has enough time to cook something for Donghyuck to eat later when he wakes up and Mark is at work.

Shoved into their fridge, at an angle Mark can’t even fathom a body being in, is the old man from earlier in the night.

Mark sighs, shoves the fresh corpse to the side, and reaches for his almond milk.

**Author's Note:**

> [my twitter](https://twitter.com/_johnten)


End file.
